


making amends

by Gildedstorm



Series: make a fury of me [5]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Gen, and the desire to criticize a character without making him an irredeemable monster, because hey bioware railroading me into being fine with this isn't cool, in which pierce gets called out, inevitable discussion of a coerced/dubcon situation, this fic brought to you by salt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-22
Updated: 2017-03-22
Packaged: 2018-10-09 07:14:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10406748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gildedstorm/pseuds/Gildedstorm
Summary: The Bastion falls. When the dust settles, some things still need to be said, and Rkorya decides to say them. At length.Or: Pierce quickly has regrets.





	

“You wanted to see me, my lord?” Pierce asks, stepping onto the bridge. He nods a curt acknowledgement at Quinn, who returns it without looking up from his work.

“I did,” Rkorya says evenly, letting him wait for her attention for now. “What’s our status, Captain?”

Quinn busies himself at the console for a moment longer and then straightens up. “I’ve sent off both the recommendation and the alert to Intelligence – on a secure channel, of course, and coded to their standards. Given your influence within the Empire, I think the response will be quite prompt.”

“Good. Notify me if anything changes.”

“Of course, my lord.”

“Walk with me, Pierce.” Now looking thoroughly bemused, he falls in step behind her as she leads the way off the ship and into her private hangar. Earning the Dark Council’s recognition has accomplished much – the hangar could accommodate a much larger ship than the Fury, and if necessary, she can commandeer a portion of the fleet for her own use. Weapons, ships, troops; the resources of the Empire are suddenly hers to call upon, even if she almost hesitates to do so. Still, that isn’t something to worry about today – now, she only needs the space of the hangar, its privacy. It’s guarded, of course, but she’s stationed them well out of earshot.

Rkorya likes Pierce, for all that this situation has left her disgusted, both with him and herself for not thinking to act sooner. She needs to reprimand him thoroughly, but publicly tearing him down would accomplish little, even if it would _feel_ satisfying.

“It’s not like you to deal with so many messages, my lord,” he offers at last. “Especially not personally.” Her distaste for handling communications is, by now, a well-known fact, and normally she would have been amused by his bringing it up.

“I felt these deserved my attention,” she says, turning to face him. “And yours, since they concern your team. I’ve recommended that Captain Lorant be reassigned and slated for promotion to Major.”

To his credit, she supposes, he looks heartened by the news. “A fine idea, my lord – I’d say with the Bastion, she’s earned it. But why just her? I would’ve thought the whole team would be moving up after what we did.” She considers him for a moment, silent, and he hastily tacks on, “Not that I _want_ a promotion myself, my lord – you know I’d rather stay with you.”

This would be _easier_ if he could manage to be bitter, spiteful. But no, he’s genuinely pleased for Lorant, and just as genuinely loyal to her. But there are ways to prod his opinions to the surface – not subtle ones, perhaps, but subtlety has never been one of her strengths.

“Her actions went far beyond what was required for the sake of the mission. She deserves the recognition.” She tries to say it calmly, but it’s a struggle – thinking of what Lorant had been pushed to do makes her want to spit. _Now_ Pierce’s expression changes, and she breathes deeply, reins in her temper before he speaks.

“With respect, my lord... it wasn’t that hard on her. A night short on sleep and with some exercise isn’t the worst thing to happen to anyone.”

“Don’t be coy, Pierce,” she snaps. “She slept with the Moff, despite her own feelings and the fact that he could ruin her career. You _urged_ her to, and because of her alone, you got the reinforcements you needed. You do not get the opportunity to belittle her for it. Or perhaps, since you’re so certain it was an enjoyable task for her... would you have volunteered, if Moff Galvan’s taste had leaned towards men instead?”

He splutters at that, and Rkorya can’t help feel vindictively satisfied that _something_ has struck home. “I wouldn’t have blamed her if she’d strangled him in his sleep, but she didn’t for your sake. You owe the success of your mission to Lorant, and this is how you treat her?”

“We needed the men!” he protests, looking hunted. It’s odd to see him on the defensive, shoulders hunched and fists clenched, but Rkorya can feel a shadow of guilt off of him.

She crosses her arms, watching him struggle with the need to defend himself and the risk of angering her. “You had my influence, my connections. It would have taken longer, but I could have gotten those reinforcements for you.”

Pierce winces – ah, the thought _had_ occurred to him. “You were hunting Baras, my lord. I didn’t want – outside of the Hand, and Vowrawn, we didn’t have all that many people on our side. If Baras noticed you were still alive and getting involved with the war, if a Moff reported back to him... we’d already been through that once. I didn’t want to help it happen again.” He meets her gaze, though only for a moment – he can’t quite bear up under her own unflinching stare. It’s almost enough to make her feel for him, but she is too angry, too determined to make him _understand_ how unacceptable this is.

Once, Rkorya wouldn’t have cared, or considered it too trifling to put any energy into considering. What did one captain’s discomfort matter? But she understands the scope of the Empire now as she hadn’t then, and the shame of allowing Lorant to humiliate herself for an otherwise unparalleled victory festers like a wound.

“That is my decision to make,” she tells him. “Not yours.”

“Yes, my lord.” Pierce bows his head briefly, but it’s not a victory – he merely knows when not to push any further.

“Not all the guilt is yours. I sanctioned your involvement – I am tainted by this.” He moves to protest and Rkorya silences him with a sharp wave of her hand. “The Empire I serve, that I wish to see rule the galaxy unchallenged is also one where a Sith Lord wouldn’t have stood aside and let this happen. One where Galvan would have been deemed unfit and removed from duty long before Lorant’s _favours_ became necessary.”

“She _started_ it, though – it was how she’d become captain in the first place! She got the good assignments, the rank, and the rest of us got scattered to the corners of the galaxy – it wasn’t right, my lord, but it’s _war_. If she’d done it all those times then, what was one more?” He’s dared to raise his voice, though not by much, and his mood is easier to gauge than it had ever been.

“That’s quite a long time to resent her for that first indiscretion. It was a personal insult, for you,” she notes, and he flushes, choking back his words. Rkorya has no qualms about picking through the mind and emotions of an enemy, but she’s always tried to spare her crew, give them some small amount of true privacy.

Which only makes this sting more, as it should.

She lets him stew helplessly for a moment, confronting his own anger, before she continues. “Your actions have shamed me. If you don’t feel ashamed yourself, I _hope_ you can seem sincere about it when you congratulate her on her promotion, and report to the operative who’ll be contacting you.”

“The operative?” he repeats, shifting his weight uneasily. “You sent a message to Intelligence...”

“To report that I suspect Moff Galvan to be a liability whose decisions can be swayed quite easily, and is too vulnerable to remain in command.” He lets out a breath shakily and she pretends to have not noticed. “I doubt Lorant would want his head, but I can at least tear him down. You will help me do so.” This time, when she looks at him, he bows – the full, formal bow that she knows full well he would have never given any other Sith, not even the Dark Council.

Rkorya tries to not be flattered. With her rage fading, she’s not quite successful.

“I will, my lord,” he promises, voice hoarse.

“Good. Then we’re done here. Come – I don’t intend to linger when the war needs us elsewhere.”

It isn’t _enough_ , but what would be? She doesn’t intend to hurt one of her own, and she can’t take back what has happened. The best she can do is make amends, which isn’t something she has much experience in.

But she feels this might be, at the very least, a good start.


End file.
